


A Chill Wind Blowing

by DragonWrites



Series: Emissary Davenport [3]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Blood and Injury, Blupjeans pining, Episode: e060-066 The Stolen Century Parts 1-7, Gen, Ghosts, My attempt at a spooky ghost story, Swearing, Temporary Character Death, brief mentions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-08
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-14 09:35:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16910475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonWrites/pseuds/DragonWrites
Summary: When the crew of the Starblaster die, they reappear stitched together at the beginning of the next cycle, ready to try again.  Nobody knows what happens to their souls in the meantime; nobody remembers being dead.Until Cycle 41.  Davenport is dead, and Barry blames himself for his captain's untimely demise.  When strange anomalies begin occurring all over the ship, he becomes convinced that Davenport's ghost is haunting him, and is very, very angry...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the Emissary Davenport series. This story is intended as a stand-alone, and you should be able to read this without having read the rest of the series, but the context helps. If you want to catch up, I'd recommend reading at least the first few chapters of Joker's Wild.

Captain Davenport died early in the cycle, and he did not die well.

His body was already cold by the time the crew found him, crushed from the chest down beneath a heavily-armored tunnel worm who twitched in the last throes of death.  Lup finished it off, a fierce and angry fireball to the head, and wiped a tear from her cheek.  Barry put his arm around her shoulders, and said nothing.

Davenport's bloodied face had been turned towards the distant tunnel entrance, his arms outstretched towards the crew.  Reaching for them.  And they had come, but too late.

With a quick flick of the wrist, Taako moved some fallen rocks onto the captain's broken body, forming a makeshift cairn.  Merle said a prayer from his bible, and flowers bloomed all over the rocks, and over the body of the worm. 

"Rest easy, friend," he said, his voice rough and gentle.

"See ya next cycle, Cap'nport," said Magnus, trying and failing to put on a brave face.

After four decades, they'd all died enough times that it had become routine.  The grief still stung, but they knew what to do.  Bury the body, say a few words, move on.

They turned and headed back to the ship.  And just like that, it was over.

But it wasn't.

 

#

 

Cycle 41 was a bleak world.  Days were short and chilly, and marked with fierce winds that made flying the Starblaster or even walking around outside dangerous.  The winds stopped at night, like clockwork, so most of the fauna was nocturnal, emerging from underground to hunt and feed in darkness.

They had not spotted the Light when it came down.  And they had found no sign of sentient life they might communicate with, who could point them in the right direction.  And so the crew's nights were spent making short expeditions to explore the doomed world and take notes, and their days were spent inside, listening to the wind screaming across the empty plains.

Lucretia woke around mid-afternoon and blinked at the ceiling.  Thin light leaked around the edges of the blackout curtain that covered her window.  She lay in the mostly-dark room, staring half-awake at the shadowy outline of her desk.  Above her head, muffled through the ceiling, came a faint tapping.  Steady, moving back and forth.

It took her a long time to process the noise, which must have woken her.  Someone was pacing on the deck.  She thought she heard the rise and fall of someone's voice beneath the steady howl of wind.  But she couldn't make out the words.

She rolled over and let herself drift back to sleep.  She wondered, briefly, who would be walking on the deck in the high winds, but the thought drifted away before she could catch it, and she fell back asleep.

 

#

 

Barry's alarm was still set to wake him at sunset, when the winds died down and the crew woke to plan for their nightly forays.  But he already knew he wasn't going to leave the ship tonight.  Or for the rest of this week.  Maybe it would be best if he stayed inside the whole rest of the cycle, while he was at it.

He groaned and rolled over, flinging his arm across his face.  He'd just woken up, and already he felt sick.  He tried to close his eyes but all he could see was Captain Davenport, looking so small and broken beneath the weight of his own death.   

His throat tightened.  If he'd gotten back to the rest of the crew more quickly, if he'd gotten help sooner--the captain might not be--

And the ship, who was going to fly it?  Davenport had taught him how to fly--this wasn't the first time the captain had died and left them to finish out the cycle--but Barry had never had to navigate winds like these!  What if he crashed the ship, what if the winds shoved him into the Hunger's tendrils and the mission failed, all because he couldn't handle it?

He rolled over again, dug the heels of his hands into his eyes.  Tried to focus on his breathing.  In, out.  In, out.

Something was burning.

He sat up, yanked out of his anxious spiral by another, more immediate concern.  Something was burning.  He stumbled out of bed and shoved his feet into his slippers, fumbling for the light switch as he did so.  The wall-mounted bedside lamp came on with a brightness that made him wince.  The rest of the ship was quiet; he and Davenport were usually the first to wake, the first to put on the coffee, but now it was just him.  He followed the smell of burning out into the hallway, and towards the kitchen.

Had one of the twins stayed up late, grief-baking?  But no, they would never have left anything to burn.  Lucretia, maybe?  No, Lucretia drank tea, and it was burning coffee he smelled.  Definitely coffee.  He could hear the drip of liquid, the scrape of a chair from inside.  

The kitchen was empty.  The coffeepot was overflowing, brown liquid sizzling as it hit the heating pad, cascading down the counter and onto the floor.

"Shit shit shit!"  He hurried across the floor, trying not to slip, and turned off the coffeemaker.  He threw several towels onto the counter and the floor, trying to clean up as much of the spill as possible.

"Whoa, what happened in here?" came Taako's voice from the doorway.  "Barold, what did you _do?"_

His face burned.  "Someone left the coffee on," he said.  "It was spilling over when I got here."

"Ugh, figures.  Step aside, my man, I got this."  And Taako flicked his hand lazily, wiping away the last of the coffee with Prestidigitation.

Barry slowly got up, scooping up the sopping towels and tossing them in the sink.  He looked around the room.  "That was weird," he said.  "Merle, maybe?"

Taako snorted.  "Probably.  He's a walking disaster in the kitchen."  He gave Barry a gentle nudge.  "Almost as bad as you."

Normally he'd chuckle at the teasing comment.  But he was still rattled, so he just stood there, rubbing his face. 

Taako's lazy smile vanished.  "You doin' okay, Barold?" he asked. 

He shrugged noncommittally. 

Taako gave him one of his trademarked Frowns of Annoyed Concern ™.  Literally trademarked, on Cycle 32.

"Why don't I, uh…put on a fresh pot?"

Taako flung up his hands.  "No you will not," he said.  "You sit your denim-clad butt down and I'll handle the coffee."

"I swear, Taako, I wasn't the one who--"

"I know that," he snapped.  "Just shut up and let me fuss over you, okay?  You look like death warmed over."

Barry sighed.  He pulled a chair from the kitchen table.

The scrape of its foot against the floor made him stop.  He--he could've sworn he'd heard that exact same sound before entering the kitchen.  The sound of someone moving a chair.  Hadn't he?  Maybe his sluggish, overly-wound-up brain had been hearing things.

He glanced around the table.  But the only other chair that had been moved was Davenport's.

 

#

 

Nobody knew who'd left the coffee pot on.  Or at least, nobody confessed to it.  Merle was downright offended at the implication that he might have done so.  On paper, the rest of the crew accepted this.  Privately, they all assumed it was him and that he'd simply forgot.  But nobody pressed the issue.

They moved on to their plans for the night.  Magnus and the twins would try another foray out into the dark, hoping to hunt down some of the local badger-like species which Lucretia had named greypads.  They were some of the more benign hunters out there, mostly hunting smaller rodents and insects, but their meat was especially delicious.

They'd all decided, without saying it out loud, to stop hunting the more dangerous animals, like the bison-like thumpers or the easily-enraged tunnel worms.  The crew always became more cautious when Davenport was dead.

Barry politely volunteered to stay in with Lucretia and Merle.  Nobody pressed the issue.

 

#

 

Someone was pacing the deck again.  That was Lucretia's first thought when she woke.  It was late afternoon, according to the clock, and someone was pacing in the bloody sunset light that was slicing around the edges of her curtains.  The winds were howling.  Who would be out in this?

The footsteps stopped.  Then they hurried towards the edge of the deck, as if they'd seen something off the port bow and were trying to get a better look.  They were saying something--asking a question? 

But nobody answered them.  There was only one set of footsteps, and only one voice.

 

#

 

Barry spent the week in the lab, running experiments on some of the soil samples Merle had gathered on their last outing.  He played music on a little player Lup had scavenged from the Robot City, to tune out the sounds of animals creeping around outside, calling to each other, hunting.  As long as he focused on his work, he was okay.

He emerged one morning when the scouting team came back.  The sound of Lup's laughter pulled him like a magnet towards the common room.  The sky beyond the large bay windows was fading into a grey dawn, and the winds were picking up.  The rest of the crew was gathered around Magnus, who was showing off a tear in his jacket sleeve and miming holding something up.

"--and that was when it bit me, right _here,”_ he said, pointing to a wound recently closed via Merle's magic.  "And I was like, okay, we're doing this!  And then I suplexed it, right there!"

"Sure, _after_ I'd stunned it," Taako added.  "Let's not forget that thing I did!"

"Oh, of course, Taako helped," said Magnus.  "But all the muscles were me!"

"And we'll be definitely sure to thank your muscles when we're all enjoying greypad jerky," said Lup.  "Think they're up to the task of getting this thing in the kitchen, so Taako can prep it?"

"Wait, why am I the only one prepping it?"

"Because I need to catch up on all those experiments Barry's been running.  Besides, it's because I said so, and I'm older."  She glanced at Barry, and winked.

Barry's heart melted.

"That was never proven!" Taako snapped, but he turned and followed Magnus to the kitchen anyway.  Lup grinned.

"Well, Barry?  Any breakthroughs on that weird element you were trying to isolate?"

He shoved aside the thought of how beautiful she was, and waved her towards the lab.  "Well, there were only a few traces of it in the soil, but it seems to have some properties similar to copper.  I'm thinking there might be a vein we could access through the tunnels, but…"  His thoughts and his steps slowed. 

Lup caught the downward shift in his tone, and stopped.  "Hey, Barry?"  She set a hand on his upper arm--a light, professional touch, not at all improprietous, but he was suddenly very aware of how close she was, how _warm._   "It's okay.  I know it's been rough on you lately, but we'll get through this.  You did your best.  You know that, right?"

He nodded, even though he didn't really believe that.  He could have done better.  He _should_ have done better.  Captain Davenport had trusted him.  He opened his mouth, but couldn't think what to say.

"Hey.  Why don't we just get settled in the lab and just…talk, okay?  You've been holed up in there for days.  But you can talk to us, if you need to."

"Thanks," he said.  He felt like he was shoving the word out through a throat gone dry and thick.

She opened the door to the lab and stopped, a little frown appearing on her lips.  And in a strange echo of her brother, she asked, "Barry…what did you _do?"_

Barry stared.  All of the storage closets hung wide open.  One of the filing cabinets had been opened and papers spilled out all over the floor.  Half his notebooks had been shoved off one of the work tables, and in the cleared space, someone had dumped out a box of spare parts next to an old bond energy analyzer that had been broken for at least half a dozen cycles.

His jaw dropped open.  Lup arched one eyebrow in his direction, and even though he knew he'd had nothing to do with this, still that look from her made his insides shrivel with guilt.  "It's not--I'm not--I--"  He blinked, still trying to process the mess in front of him.  "I didn't do this, I swear!"

"Then who did?  Everyone else was in the common room."

He ran his fingers through his hair.  "I _just_ left this room a few minutes ago, and it wasn't like this!"

Now her look was less accusatory and more concerned.  "Barry," she said, her voice very soft now, "I think maybe you should get some rest.  I can clean this up for you."

"But I'm not--!" he began to protest.

"You're not fine, is what you are."  She turned him around by the shoulders and gave him a gentle shove towards his bedroom.  "You've been overworking yourself again.  Lay down and get some rest, and I'll clean this up and come check on you, okay?"

"Lup--"  He turned to face her.  But what could he say?  He'd already convinced himself he'd heard someone in the kitchen when it had been empty.  A minor hallucination conjured by his half-awake brain, or maybe his ears misinterpreting a sound in another part of the ship.  But wrecking the lab and forgetting he did so?  He had his anxieties, but this didn't sound like something he'd do. 

"It wasn't me," he said again, lamely.

"Get some rest," she said, unmoved.

He rubbed his face.  He didn't have the energy to argue.  Slowly he turned and dragged his sorry self back to his room.  Behind him, he could hear Lup sigh as she scooped up a pile of papers.

 

#

 

The pacing was driving Lucretia nuts.  Every day, while she tried to sleep, the footsteps continued back and forth over her head.  Not only did the sound interrupt her sleep, but it was _dangerous_ , and whoever was doing it needed to stay inside like the rest of them.  Now was not the time to take unnecessary risks.  Not with the captain dead.   

So this time, she didn't sleep.  She lay awake until the footsteps started, and hurried from her bed.  Down the hallway, up the stairs to the deck door.  Gripping the handle tight to keep the wind from ripping it off its hinges, she opened the door.

The deck was empty.  Beyond the Starblaster, an endless sea of long grasses bent low in the howling winds.

She pulled the door shut.  Maybe they'd come inside, through a different door, and she'd just missed them?

She sighed and headed back to her room.  She was being stupid.  She should just ask the others over breakfast.

Back in her room, she turned on her alarm and lay back down.

The pacing started up again.

She was down the hallway and at the door in a rush.  She pressed her ear against the door.  Footfalls, a low voice.  She opened the door.

The deck was empty.

She leaned out, holding onto the doorframe as the cold wind whipped her hair, as the ice of it dug its way between the stitches and seams of her clothes and chilled her skin.  She stared at the empty deck until her eyes watered.  As if by staring, she could make real what she heard.

After what seemed a very long time of nothing, she shut the door.  Her whole body shuddered with cold.  She rubbed her arms, trying to bring warmth back into them, and turned to head back to her bed and her warm comfortor.

A knock sounded at the door.  Three short raps.

She turned, eyes wide.  There was a small porthole in the door, at eye level for humans.  There was nothing on the other side but gray sky. 

And then, the wailing wind resolved itself into words.  A voice.  High, nasal, unmistakeable.

"Lucretiaaa . . ." the wind called, in her dead captain's voice.

Lucretia screamed.

 

#

 

Barry lay awake in bed, too wired to sleep.  Lup had come to check on him, and he'd mutely accepted her show of concern.  Logically speaking, he recognized that he did need some sleep.  After a good night's shut-eye session, he could approach all this with a clear head.

But not long after she left, he was still wide awake.  His brain was too wired to sleep, his thoughts chasing themselves around endlessly.  So he got up and went to the lab.  Regardless of what had happened in there, he shouldn't leave Lup to clean it all up on her own. 

But Lup wasn't in the lab.  He could hear her talking quietly with Taako in the kitchen, their songlike voices rising and falling in private conversation.

He slipped past the kitchen towards the lab, leaving them to each other. 

The lab door was open a crack.  The light was off, but the sound of shuffling papers and clattering metal was unmistakeable.  Someone else was in there.

He froze just outside the door.  He couldn't see into the darkness inside the lab, but sparks of light burst irregularly from inside.  He thought he caught a whiff of ozone, as if someone were fiddling with wiring.

The sparks stopped.  There was another clatter of metal, the slow tumble of a box of parts being overturned.

He shoved the door open and hit the lights.  "Hey you!" he shouted.

The lab was empty.

He stepped inside, looked around.

"Barry?"

He nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of Lup's query. 

"Easy," she said, her voice light, "it's just me."

"Lup!"

"The one and only."  She planted her hands on her hips.  "And shouldn't you be in bed?"

"You're not gonna believe this," he said, "but there was definitely a--an anomaly happening right in here!  I saw lights flashing in the darkness, and I heard--"  He looked around, saw the parts box with its contents spilled.  The bond energy analyzer had been partially disassembled.  "I heard someone working in here, knocking over that box.  But when I turned on the lights, it was gone!"

Lup looked around.  "Barry," she said, very calmly, "are you implying that this ship is haunted?"

He stared at her.  He wouldn't have thought to put it in exactly those words, but… "I dunno, uh, maybe?"

She sighed.  And then she picked up a pair of metal sample dishes, and slammed them together like cymbals.  "If there are any ghosts here," she called, "come out and speak to us like adults, or get the hell out of here!  We've got a cleric on board, and we're not afraid to use him!"

She let the clanging sound ring through the lab and then fall silent.  Nothing replied.

"Well," she said, setting the dishes down again, "we've got that problem solved handily, I'd say.  If you're really worried, we can have Merle do a proper exorcism.  Maybe we picked something up on that spooky world two cycles back."

The knot of fear in his chest unclenched a little at the sight of Lup's bravery.  "Th-thanks, Lup," he said.  "I think I feel better already."

Lup smiled, and his heart melted just a little more.

From the other side of the ship, Lucretia began to scream.


	2. Chapter 2

Lucretia didn't know where she was running to, or what she would do when she got there.  All she knew was that she needed to get away from the wailing voice behind her.  Her two options were fight or flight, and she was all in on flight. 

She only stopped when she slammed into Lup coming out of the lab.  "Lucretia?"  She heard the elf's voice but couldn't formulate a response.  "Lucretia, _what happened?"_

She buried her face in Lup's shoulder and sobbed.

"Lup?  Lucretia?"  She heard Barry's voice, and the sound of doors opening.  Lights flickered on.

"What in the name of Pan's beard is going on?" came Merle's rough voice.  "Can't a dwarf get some shut-eye?"

Lucretia looked up at Lup's face.  Her friend was frowning.  She opened her mouth, tried to explain, but how could she explain what she'd heard?  Her captain, her _dead captain_ , endlessly pacing the deck of his ship, calling out to her with a voice like the wind.  It was impossible.  It wasn't supposed to happen like this.

Not like this.

Lup ran a hand over her head, a protective, soothing gesture.  And then she sighed.

"Family meeting," she said, loud enough that everyone could hear her.  _"Now."_

#

 

Lucretia took notes with shaking hands.  The act of pinning inexplicable things down on paper, in a sensible order, eased her mind a little.  It was an act that had helped her cope with so much on their long journey.

She listened as Barry explained the strange occurrences in the lab.  She shared her own descriptions of the endless pacing, of Davenport's voice at the door.  After briefly conferring, they decided to add the coffee pot incident to their list of anomalies.

"But why?" asked Magnus when it was all written down.  "I mean, all of us have died before, but none of us have, like, stuck around as ghosts.  Except when Merle Parleys and becomes a smoke person."

"Not quite the same thing," said Lup.  She tapped her fingers against her teeth.  "Could be a local effect that caused this to happen."

"Or maybe there was something about his death that was different this time," Merle offered.  "I mean, ghosts usually happen when a person has unfinished business.  Something tethering them to this plane.  Maybe there's something he really wants to do?"

Taako snorted.  "He wants to do the same thing he's wanted to do on every plane.  Get the Light, find a way to stop the Hunger."

"Maybe it's the Light, then?"  Magnus scratched his chin.  He was attempting a beard this cycle, and the results were…uneven.  "He's died twice before.  Had we already gotten the Light those times?"

The quill tip stopped on the paper.  Lucretia watched the ink pool.  "No," she said, pulling his deaths too easily from memory.  "In cycle 15, he was killed during negotiations for the Light, so he died before we acquired it.  In cycle 22, he was caught in an explosion towards the end of the year.  We already had the Light."

"And no spooky ghost activity either time," said Lup. 

"Necromancy, maybe?" Barry suggested, frowning.  He almost immediately shook his head.  "Never mind, nobody around to cast it."

"What if there are people," said Merle, "but, you know, invisible?"

"Invisible necromancers?" 

"It could happen!  We don't know."

Lucretia kept staring at the blot of black ink.  "What if it's…"  She hated herself for saying this.  "What if it's a sign that we've run out of resets?  That this is…"  She swallowed hard around the knot in her throat.  "The last cycle."

Her words dropped like a stone into an oubliette.  Lup and Taako looked at each other, Barry paled even more than usual, Merle stared at her, and Magnus stared at the table, fists clenched.  For a long, painful moment, nobody said anything.

A chill wind stirred around her ankles.  One of the cabinet doors slammed, a sharp crack of wood on wood.  Lucretia sat up as if she'd been struck by a jolt of lightning.  "He's here," she said in a tight, strangled voice.

"I cast Speak with Spirits!" said Merle, raising his hands.

The chill draft in the room condensed.  The lights flickered.  And Captain Davenport was sitting in his seat, frowning.  His face was pale and there was an eerie glow in his eyes.  Faint gold light ran beneath his skin like veins.

"Oh my gods…" she said, dropping her quill.  Several chairs scraped as half the crew rose to their feet.  But she was paralyzed, frozen to her seat.

Only Merle seemed unruffled by this.  He took a deep breath, looked around the table, and said, "That you, Dav?"

Davenport opened his mouth, closed it again.  His form shivered, as if a wind were blowing through it.  For a few brief seconds, it looked like he was about to dissipate again, but then his outline resolved and his translucent form took on more substance.  "I am…Captain Davenport…" he said.  His voice was thin, like the wind was speaking through him.

"Hmm.  Okay, Captain Davenport," said Merle.  "What can we do to ease your troubled soul?"

Davenport flickered as he looked at Merle.  There was no between-motion; it was like his form skipped frames, one moment staring straight ahead, the next with his head turned towards the dwarf.  He blinked, and his form flicked again, and he was looking straight at Barry.  He raised a hand and pointed.

_"Barry."_  

Barry was on his feet, his face as pale and bloodless as Davenport's.  "Captain," he said, his voice strained, his eyes wide, "I'm so sorry!  I didn't mean--I'm sorry!"

_"Barry."_ Davenport walked towards him, drifting through the table, accusatory finger pointed straight at the human's heart.  The wind picked up, chilling the room and flipping the pages of Lucretia's journal.  _"The tunnel--Barry--"_

Barry stumbled over his chair and fell backwards, screaming.  Merle shouted a holy word, and the kitchen flooded with golden light.  Davenport flew backwards through the wall, his form dissipating.

The wind stopped, and the kitchen fell silent.

"What the fuck?" said Taako.  "Did you just blast the captain?!"

"He was going after Barry!" said Merle.  "I just turned him.  It didn't hurt him but it should keep him away for…"  He shrugged.  "A little while?"

Barry was staring glassy-eyed at the spot where Davenport had been.  Magnus reached down to help him up, and Lup guided him back into his chair.  "I…I'm so sorry…" he blubbered.  "This is all my fault…"

"Naaah, it's not your fault!" said Merle, patting him on the knee. 

"But I…he's angry because I killed him!  He's dead because of me!"  He picked up a dish towel and tried to wipe away the tears that were streaming down his cheeks. 

"Uh, homey, last I checked, he was killed by a giant cave worm," said Taako. 

"But he sent _me_ to get help, and I--I fucked up!  I took too long to find you, I couldn't get you back to him in time, I couldn't even help him!"

Merle sighed, and pulled up a chair beside Barry.  "Listen, ya gotta understand," he said gently.  "Dav's just confused and he doesn't know what he's doing.  Ghosts are, ya know, they're just driven by whatever strong emotions were swirling around in their souls when they died."

Barry frowned, his fists clenching.  "So all he was thinking about when he died was how mad he was at me."

"Well, I mean…maybe?"  Merle shrugged.

"We don't _know_ that for sure," said Lup, putting a protective arm around Barry. 

"Yeah, I mean this _is_ Cap'nport," said Magnus.  "He'd never want to intentionally hurt any of us."

"Like I said, he's confused," Merle went on.  "He's lost and confused, trapped in the moment of his death and looking for Barry."

"Ugh!"  Taako threw his hands in the air.  "Merle, are you even _trying_ to make Barry feel better?!  Cap's ghost is haunting the fuck out of him and the best you can manage is, like, well at least he doesn't _mean_ to be an angry poultergeist!"

"I'm just _saying,_ Barry shouldn't take this the wrong way!  Dav doesn't think he's a failure who deserves punishment, because he's probably not thinking at all!"

Barry buried his face in his hands and sighed.  "Okay.  Okay.  But he's still haunting me.  I…what do we even do about that?  I mean, we don't want to hurt him.  And you can't keep turning him forever."

"Yeah, the old man doesn't have that many spell slots," said Taako. 

Merle frowned.  "What's a spell slot?"

Lucretia took a break from recording to pinch the bridge of her nose. 

"Listen, we'll think of something," said Lup.  "I mean, we're six of the smartest minds in all of reality.  Merle, you got any spells that might calm an angry ghost without actually hurting him?"

Merle tugged at his beard.  "Uh…lemme check my spells…"  He pulled a set of index cards from a pocket of his rumpled pajamas, and began trying to sort through the unorganized stack.

"Well, that might take a while," said Lup.  "In the meantime, Barry, why don't you try to get some sleep?  We'll keep watch, okay?"

"I could try to put a ward around Barry's room," Lucretia offered.  "I'm pretty sure it should keep ghosts out."

Lup gave her a thumbs up.  "Great idea!"

Barry gave Lucretia a weak but grateful smile.  "Thanks, Lucy," he said.  "You're, uh, a real pal."

She picked up her book and stood, returning an equally weak smile.  A ward was a good start, but  . . . she couldn't get Davenport's desperate voice out of her head.  He wanted something from them.  And she wasn't sure if it was something they'd be able to give.

 

#

 

Barry had an escort back to his room.  Lucretia walked ahead, wand in hand; the twins and Magnus followed, forming a close circle around him, with Merle trailing behind, fiddling with his spell cards.  As if a cluster of bodies could act as a shield wall between him and the captain's ghost.  Unlikely, but their presence still comforted him.

Lucretia flicked her wand at the door of his room, beginning the warding spell.  But even as little silver sigils of energy flared to life around the doorframe, the idea of being alone in his room squeezed his chest. 

"Uh…"  He glanced at Lup out of the corner of his eye.  "This might sound a bit strange, but…I mean, I don't think I wanna be alone right now?"  Sweat prickled the back of his neck.  "Just in case something weird happens," he added hastily.

A faint blush crept across Lup's cheeks.  She quickly looked away.  "Well…I mean, if you need someone--"

"I can be your bunk buddy!" said Magnus, flinging a beefy arm around Barry's shoulders.  "Protecting my friends is my middle name!"

Barry's face grew warm.  "Uh, yeah, that--that would be--"

"It'll be like a big ol' sleepover!"

"Okay, ward's up," said Lucretia, stepping back.  "Your room should be safe now!"

Magnus clapped him on the back.  "I'm gonna go get my sleeping bag and some extra pillows and blankets!  We can make a blanket fort!"

Barry's mouth opened.  He turned to Lup, but she was looking away from him, speaking to Taako.  He sighed.  He'd probably come across as too needy.  Of course Lup wasn't going to babysit his worthless carcass.  He was a grown man who'd faced down monsters on dozens of planes, and he couldn't even sit in his protected room by himself?

"Well, Magnus," said Lup, in a too-light voice, "I'll leave you to it!  Keep our Barry safe."

Magnus saluted, and Lup hurried away, again not looking at Barry.  He realized that the tips of her ears were red.

 

#

 

They spent a good hour fiddling with a blanket fort, trying to get it to stay up, but it did little to ease Barry's growing anxiety.  The winds outside were howling as dawn turned into mid-morning, and he kept imagining he heard footsteps out there on the deck.  But he could never be one hundred percent sure.

Shortly after the fort was complete, he tried to lay down and relax, willing his body to allow him some form of sleep.  But it was Magnus who fell asleep first, his deep snores filling the blanket tent.

Barry sighed and sat up.  Light was streaming through a gap in the blankets.  In the midst of everything else happening, he'd forgotten to close his curtains.  He got up and slipped out of the tent, careful not to step on Magnus.

Outside the window, the landscape was obscured in mist.  It was so thick, he couldn't see the ground.  It looked like the ship was drifting through fast-moving, pale grey clouds.

As he watched, the glass fogged over.  A letter began to appear in the fogged glass.  As if an invisible hand were writing in it, carefully, line by line.

T

Barry stared.

U

He stumbled back, and tripped over a pillow.  He fell backwards with a cry, knocking the tent down.  Magnus woke, shouting, as they both flailed around in a tangle of blankets.

"Who goes there?!" cried Magnus, nearly kicking Barry in the head.

"Magnus, the window!"  Barry got one arm free and pushed himself to a sitting position.

"What?  What is it?"  Magnus's head finally emerged from the pile. 

Barry pointed.  But the window was clear, and the message was gone.

 

#

 

The pacing had already begun by the time Lucretia returned to her room.  But the path her captain's ghost took was different now.  She could tell through the thin ceiling that he was walking around the perimeter of the fore deck, as if he couldn't get any closer.  So Merle's turning was still in effect; it hadn't gotten him off the ship, but he couldn't get inside it, either.

She sat up in bed.  She'd never fall asleep like this.  Maybe she should've joined the slumber party in Barry's room.  Snuggling under a pile of blankets while Magnus watched over her sounded really good right about now.  But some other anxious part of her didn't want to leave the one place on the ship where she could at least track the captain's activity. 

She fixed her eyes on the ceiling.  Was his path shifting closer? 

She fell utterly still, not even daring to breathe.  It was obvious now.  With each iteration, his path was edging away from the deck perimeter, closer and closer to the deck door.  She closed her eyes and shivered.  Would he knock again?  Or would he just pass through the door, and drift back to the lab or the kitchen?

She hadn't thought to ward the deck door.  Gods, she was an idiot!

She snatched up her wand and headed out into the hallway.  At the top of the stairs, the door waited.  Outside was nothing but fog, and the muffled sound of footsteps.

She readied her wand, aimed it at an upper corner of the door to begin the warding.

The footsteps sped up, and the door slammed open with a blast of freezing wind.  She screamed, stumbling back as the gale pressed against her.  She thought she heard Davenport shouting.  The winds kept coming, and she heard a crash from the common room behind her.

She needed to get up.  She needed to do something.  But her legs were jelly, and all she could do was lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling and trying to breathe as the wind stole the heat from her body.

 

#

 

Barry heard the door slam open, and he heard the winds howl, and he heard Lucretia scream.  He heard all of it, but he couldn't make himself move.  It was all so much, his brain shut down.

He was distantly aware of Magnus rising to his feet, slamming open the door.  Shouting.  "Cap'nport!"  Heavy footsteps, heading towards the common room.

"What the fuck?!" came Taako's distant wail.  "Cap, you gotta _chill--"_

The sound of glass shattering.  Merle came rushing down the hallway, heading towards the maelstrom of noise from the common room, his index cards in hand. 

Barry lay on the floor of his room.  This was all his fault. 

He knew it, deep in his bones.  And here was everyone else, rushing towards the problem while all he could do was stare at the ceiling.  He was a failure.

"Cap!"  Lup was shouting now.  "We get that you're angry.  But you're at an eleven and I'mma need you at a seven max, okay?"

Despite everything, a little chuckle escaped Barry's mouth.  Leave it to Lup to keep her cool when everything was flying apart, literally.

Gods, he wished he could be brave like her. 

_And what's stopping you, babe?_   He could practically hear her voice at his shoulder:  the deceptive lightness, the gentle teasing song of her words.

He stood.  His knees were shaking and his mouth was dry, but he stood.

This whole situation was his fault.  It was also his responsibility.  If the captain wanted to talk to him, then he'd better damn well report for duty.

He stepped through the warded doorway, into the narrow hallway.  A chilly gale roared down from the deck door and into the common room.  Lucretia lay on the floor not far from him, fingers gripping her wand.  Her skin was ashen from the cold.  He knelt down beside her.  "Lucretia?" he yelled over the wind.  "Can you hear me?!"  He wrapped her chilled hand in his own.  Her whole body was shivering.

"Th-the ward-d…" she said, her teeth chattering.

He glanced up at the open door.  The wind stung his eyes, made them water.  He slipped the wand from her grip and cast Mage Hand, slamming the door shut against the wind with all the force he could muster.

The gale cut off, and the hallway fell quiet.  From the common room, he could still hear the wail of a now-contained whirlwind.

"Now, Dav," came Merle's voice, "if you could just--"

_"BARRY."_    The word seemed to come from the whole ship, vibrating through the walls and floor.  _"WHERE'S BARRY."_

The hairs on the back of Barry's neck stood up.

"Barry," said Lucretia, gripping the sleeve of his robe, "you need to get back behind the wards.  We'll…we'll take care of him, somehow--"

"Barry's not here, Dav," Merle continued, trying to speak over the wind.  "But _we're_ here, and you can talk to us--whoops--!  Aw dang!"

Merle's index cards came flying down the hallway.

_"THE TUNNEL,"_ said Davenport.  His voice was deeper, louder than it had any right to be.  " _IN THE TUNNEL.  WHERE'S BARRY!"_

Barry took a deep breath.  He handed Lucretia her wand back.  "Stay safe," he said.  And then he got up, and walked into the common room.

It was a maelstrom in there.  Winds spun around the room, knocking loose papers and flinging throw pillows.  Up in the helm area, electricity sparked across the console.  The ship's wheel spun frantically.  Merle was crouching on the ground, shuffling through the few index cards he'd managed to keep a grip on, while Magnus, Taako and Lup tried to form a wind-shield around him.

"Captain!" Barry bellowed.

A shadow moved near the wheel.  Two pinpoints of light that might have been eyes flashed.  _"BARRY."_ Frost was beginning to spread across the front windshield. 

He swallowed.  "Yeah, it's me," he said.  "I'm sorry I was late."

The wind pushed at his back; all the air in the room was being sucked towards the helm.  The electricity arcing across the console grew brighter.  The wheel seemed to glow with lightning.

He squeezed his eyes shut, tried to maintain his balance.  "If you need to, uh, exact vengeance on me, if killing me would make you feel better…"  He spread his arms wide.  "I'm right here.  Just…leave the others alone, okay?"

"Uh, Barry?" said Magnus.  "You don't have to do this!"

"Yeah, Barry, what the fuck?!" said Lup. 

But Barry was resolute.  "He wants me," he said.  "And if it'll calm him down, well…"  He tried to give them a brave smile.  "See you all next cycle…"

The console was lit like a Candlenights party.  Instruments wailed and every light in the ship dimmed and then flared up again.  And then, as if a switch had been flipped, the wind stopped.

The silence that came after the roar of noise left his ears ringing.  It stretched for so long that he began to wonder if the captain had just…left?  Gone wherever ghosts went when they were done?  A few lights on the console blinked.

And then static burst across the internal loudspeakers.  "SSSSHHHHCXXXSSHSHRRY YOU NEED TO GO BACK TO THE TUNNEL BARRY YOU NEED TO GO BACK TO THE TUNNEL!  CAN YOU HEAR ME BARRY THERE ARE PEOPLE DOWN THERE!  YOU NEED TO GO BACK!"

Barry blinked.  "What?"

There was another pause.  And then Davenport's voice came bellowing through the loudspeakers again.  "CAN YOU HEAR ME?"

Barry rubbed one ear.  "Uh…yeah?  You're…you're pretty loud, but I can hear you."

"OH THANK THE GODS," said Davenport.  "FINALLY."


	3. Chapter 3

Davenport knew he was going to die.  It sucked, but there was nothing else he could do except try to block out the pain and wait for the end with dignity. 

(With dignity.  Like he had to do everything else in his life.  Part of him just wanted to let go and sob into the cold stone, just let it all out with nobody to hear him but the cave worm crushing his lower half.  But there was always the outside chance his crew would come, and he didn't want them to see their captain a blubbering mess.  So he gritted his teeth.  He would go out with dignity.)

It was not the first time he'd died.  He knew what to expect.  A moment of darkness, then a flare of impossible light, and then he'd be back at the wheel, the Hunger falling behind him as the ship made the leap between dimensions.  And then he'd turn to Barry--it would likely be Barry, he's the best of the backup pilots--and thank him for getting them through…

He gasped as another wave of pain caused his vision to brown out.  He couldn't--he couldn't hang on any longer.  He'd tried.  He'd done his best.  Nothing left but to trust the crew to keep going. 

Davenport closed his eyes, and let out his final breath.

Darkness.  A flare of light.  A sudden, uncomfortable yank, like he was being dragged out of someplace warm and comfortable.  Awareness slammed into him hard.

He was Captain Davenport.  He was on the deck of the Starblaster. 

"I am Captain Davenport," he said. 

"There you are, my little jewel!" boomed a cheerful voice, at once familiar and…not-familiar?  Pitched too high?  He couldn't think, he--he was on the ship.  What was he doing on the ship?  He was supposed to be on the ship, right? 

"I'm on the Starblaster," he said, blinking.  It was all he could see:  the ship's pale deck, and beyond it, nothing but stars.

"I'll say!" the voice continued.  "You were _supposed_ to be in the Golden Hills!  I waited there, but when you didn't show up I figured something weird must've happened.  So I just popped 'round to the ol' PMP, and what do I find?  Your soul stuck in some weird spinny engine thing!  Well, you know what I say to that?  No thanks, Chuckles!  No weird spinny engine thing eats _my_ emissary and gets away with it!"

"Ha!  You tell 'em, boss!" said another voice, definitely familiar.

He blinked.  "I am Captain Davenport," he said.  "I'm…supposed to be on the Starblaster."

"Well, you _were_ , my little jewel," said the first voice, a little more gently.  "But I'm afraid you're dead now.  Your mortal work is finished, and now you can come with me to your new home."

That wasn't right.  His work wasn't finished at all.  "I am Captain Davenport," he repeated.  "I'm supposed to be on the Starblaster."

There was a pause. 

"Um, boss?" came the second voice.  "Is he, um…okay?  He seems a little…out of it."

"Hmm.  It's possible he's just a little stunned from being yanked out of an engine.  Let me try something." 

He felt something brush his forehead.  Warmth flooded him; his head cleared, a little.

Garl was standing on the deck beside him, a big grin on his--her--face. 

He stared.  "You're a woman," he said.

The gnomish goddess of pranks folded her arms across her chest and arched an eyebrow.  "Not the strangest thing I've heard in all my eons, but it's up there."

"Garla," said her battle-axe, in a low voice, "doesn't this seem odd to you?  First you get an emissary whom you've _never met_ , and then when he dies, his soul gets sucked into an engine, and he doesn't even know you're a goddess?  I don't know about you, but this seems _hella strange_ to me."

Garl--Garla--rolled her eyes.  "And I _told_ you, Arumdina, there's a perfectly logical explanation!  _Clearly_ I must've pranked myself!"  She grinned and waved a hand at Davenport.

He rubbed his forehead.  "I am Captain Davenport," he repeated.  "I'm supposed to be on the Starblaster."  No, that wasn't right.  "The cave…Barry, you need to get the others.  I'll try to hold on, but…"  He tried to breathe, but there was a pressure on his chest.  His lungs ached; everything else felt strangely numb.  He pressed his arms over his abdomen.  "Barry…Barry get the others…you need to get out of here, get help…Barry--"  He squeezed his eyes shut against a sudden wave of fear and grief.  "I'm going to die…" he said.  He pulled his hand away; it was coated in dark, shimmering blood.  He could see the deck through his hand.  "I…I died…"

"Hooooly shit!" came Arumdina's voice, distant, as if he were hearing it from underwater.  " _Why_ is he bleeding now?!"

There was blood all over the deck.  He was dead.  _He was dead._

Garla's mischievous smile faded.  "My precious jewel, listen to me," she said.  "Your time is done.  You need to come with me."  She opened her arms to him.  "As my emissary, you shall spend your eternity with me in the Golden Hills.  You will be happy there, free of all your mortal burdens.  You will be _home_."  She reached out a hand.

He stumbled backwards.  "N-no," he said.  "I'm Captain Davenport.  I need to be on the ship!  The mission--it's not over yet!"

"I know you're scared, and a little confused.  But I promise, you'll be fine!  There'll be feasting and carousing and singing, and more carousing…I'll be honest, there's a _lot_ of carousing.  And I just installed a bowling alley in the basement!  Doesn't that sound nice?"

His focus slipped.  He felt his tenuous hold on himself loosening, like he was drifting off into darkness.  He tried grabbing onto what he could remember--he was Captain Davenport, he was supposed to be on the ship, the Starblaster was his _home._   He flickered back into place on the deck. 

"--can't take you to your final reward unless you want to come with me."  Garla was still talking.  "So all you have to do is say, 'Garla, I want to go with you to the Golden Hills.'"  She smiled.  "Super easy!  And I'll pop you right up to the Celestial Planes!"

He shook his head.  Everything felt hazy, like he was looking at the world through a layer of fog.  But he was certain about this one thing.  "I need to be on the Starblaster," he said.  The Starblaster was his home.  It was where he was needed.  It was where he was _himself._

Garla regarded him silently for a long moment.  The force of her divine gaze on his bare, exposed soul nearly broke his tenuous hold.  But he closed his eyes and repeated what he knew, like a mantra.  Anchoring himself to the ship, to the _mission._  

Then, very slowly, Garla closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead.  "Oh no," she said, in a low voice.  "Damn it."

"What is it now?" asked Arumdina. 

Garla looked at him again, rubbing her chin.  "He's become a ghost," she said, slowly, like she was pronouncing his doom.  "He's tethered his soul to this plane."

"….Okay, I'm just gonna come out and say it," said Arumdina.  "You really boned this one up good.  I say, we contact the Raven Master and let _them_ get this sorted out.  That's literally their one job."

"Are you crazy?!"  Garla threw up her hands.  "If I get the Raven Master involved, I'm gonna spend the next two _centuries_ in litigation over this one soul!  Assuming they don't just send him to the Eternal Stockade for using a…whatever the hell this is!  A soul-eating engine phylactery?"

"I died…" Davenport murmured, pulling himself back together, piece by piece.  "The mission needs to keep going.  I died.  We have one year.  Less than a year.  Six months.  I died, the mission needs to keep going.  We need to find the Light."  With each new statement, he felt more grounded, more _here._

"Well, you got a better alternative?"

He was suddenly aware that Garla was right next to him.  She radiated warmth. 

"My little one," she said, "do you want to stay here, on this ship?"

"The Starblaster is my home," he said.  "My crew needs me here."

She nodded, and flicked one hand.  A force he couldn't name fell over him, like a thin veil, like rain.  The deck shimmered.

"Then stay," she said.  "I've put a special shield up over the ship.  It will conceal you from certain prying eyes, so you can remain safely.  And the net of my power should help you, ah, _cohere_ a bit faster.  And when you're a little more together, we'll speak again."  She brushed a stray lock of phantom hair from his eyes.  The touch wasn't physical; neither had physical bodies.  It was more a feeling of tendernesss, brushing up against him like light moving across his face.  "Call me if you need me, my jewel," she said.  "I am always with you."

And then she vanished.

Davenport stood up and looked around the empty deck.  There were still traces of phantom blood, dark and shimmering like pools of night sky.  It stained the front of his uniform, too.

What was he supposed to do, now that he was dead?  He was supposed to be on the Starblaster, but _why_?

He began to pace.

 

#

 

As the days passed, memories returned to him, like fish swimming up from the depths of the sea.  He paced back and forth over the deck, and the pacing helped him focus, helped him grab on and _hold_ , but it took all his concentration to maintain even a tenuous grip. 

"I am Captain Davenport of the IPRE," he reminded himself.  "I am accompanied by Merle, Taako, Lup, Magnus, Lucretia, and Barry.  Our ship is the Starblaster.  This is Cycle 41."

His form solidified.  He stopped bleeding, started looking a little more as he was before a giant tunnel worm crushed him.  There was still a dark patch of blood on his uniform, but at least he wasn't streaking the deck with it.

He thought maybe going through his old routines might help.  So he drifted into the ship's interior, and tried to make coffee.  He flicked on the coffee machine, pulled out a chair, and waited. 

The pot began to fill.  He waited.

The pot began to overflow.  He waited.

Coffee spilled onto the burner, and began to hiss and sizzle.  He waited.

Footsteps hurried down the hall.  The light came on.  "Shit shit shit!"

The sudden noise and light startled him, shattering his focus.  He fluttered out like a candleflame.

It took him a long time to pull himself back together again on the deck.  He began to pace.

 

#

 

One day, around dawn, he drifted into the lab.  In life, he'd always found machine work to be uniquely soothing.  So he tried that. 

There was an old bond energy analyzer he'd been meaning to fix.  It took him a few minutes of rustling around to find it and to clear space and to dump out the spare parts--his ability to move things was not exactly _precise_ \--but soon he was ready to begin.

Voices rose outside the door.  Lup and Barry.  He froze, wondering if they would see him, wondering what he would say to them if they could.  He was dead, after all.  He wasn't supposed to even be in the lab--

With that thought, his grip slipped and he fluttered out again.

 

#

 

"Wait, wait, wait," he said.  "You're _here._ "

Garla leaned against the railing, arms folded across her chest.  "Yes.  And?"

"No, I mean…you _exist_.  As a goddess."  Davenport paced the deck, trying to work through his thoughts.

The corner of Garla's mouth tugged up in a smile.  "Again, yes."

"Which means…there are gnomes here.  Sentient life.  On this world!"

"Last I checked."

"Then where are they?  Where is… _everyone_?"

Garla's eyes twinkled.  "Underground," she said.

"But we checked the tunnels!" 

She winked.  "You just didn't go deep enough."

"Wait," said Arumdina, "where are you even _from_ that you don't know that?"

He stopped pacing.  "I am Captain Davenport of the IPRE," he said.  "I'm from--"  His thoughts jumped to a completely different track, as implications laid themselves out before him.  There were people on this world.  The crew had no idea where the Light had fallen.  They didn't even have a clue where to begin searching.  This world was going to be lost.  There were people here.

The thought slammed into and through him like a sudden cold wind.  He fell to his knees on the deck.  In the distance, he could hear Garla and Arumdina shouting, but he couldn't hear them over the roaring in his head.  All he could hear were his own thoughts churning and churning, _there are people here_ , _this world will be lost, we've failed, I've failed, there are people here--_

_"STOP."_

The full weight of Garla's divine command was like a shaft of golden sunlight piercing through a thunderhead.  His attention focused immediately.  He realized the wind was actually churning around him, a compact howling gale.  It whipped around the deck with such force that the windsock on the ship's weather station was ripped free of its tether and went flying off into the grass. 

He closed his eyes, took a deep phantom breath into his non-existent lungs.  He was Captain Davenport of the IPRE, and damned if he was going to lose control of himself just because he was dead.  He pictured a clear night sky, windless and calm, the stars blinking quietly in their places.

The wind settled.  It was still strong, still not something a flesh-and-blood person should walk around in, but there was no longer a mini-hurricane on the deck.

"I'm sorry," he said. 

"You might want to be more careful, my little jewel," said Garla.  "Ghosts are manifestations of pure emotional energy.  And that energy is becoming more, ah, _potent_ as you pull yourself together."

"Yeah," said Arumdina, "you could really wreck shit up by accident, if you're not careful."

He pressed the bridge of his nose, working through his thoughts very carefully.  There was sentient life on this world.  The crew didn't know how to contact them, didn't even know where to look.  They'd been avoiding the tunnels since his death.

He tested each thought like he was testing a step on a creaky wooden bridge before placing his full weight on it.  Finally he reached the other side, and considered the logical conclusion before him.  "Six months," he said.

"Six months?" asked Garla, rubbing her chin.

"In six months, I can move on," he said.  Not technically a lie.  "At that point, my mission here will be over, for…for better or worse."

Garla smiled.  "I knew you'd come around!  There are very few gnomes indeed who can resist the allure of my new bowling alley!"

Davenport gave her a weak smile.  The Golden Hills sounded like a delightful place to rest. 

But he couldn't rest.  Not yet.

 

#

 

He needed to find a way to communicate with the crew.  Specifically, Barry.  Barry would be their best shot at successfully navigating the tunnels.  The poor guy had holed himself inside ever since Davenport's death, but they needed his skills out in the field.

He drifted back to the lab, but it was empty.  He looked around.  He felt a pull towards the bond energy analyzer, as if his connection with it--the memory, the _need_ to fix it ringing through him like a bell--was causing it to resonate with him on some spiritual level.  It was a similar resonance that pulled him to the deck, or allowed him to fiddle with the coffee maker. 

If he could get it working again, maybe he could force the readout screen to display a message to the crew.  It was worth a shot.  He spread out the spare parts on the work table again, and reached for the analyzer.  As his hand brushed across it, its exposed wires sparked.  He felt his hand drawn into it, slipping into its casing as easily as putting on a glove.

He wiggled a finger.  The wires sparked again, and the screen lit up.  Interesting.  He reached for the box of parts, pulled it over on its side.  There had to be some spare alligator clips in here--

The lab lights flicked on.  "Hey you!" Barry shouted.

His focus broke.  When he came to again, he was pacing on the deck.  Damn it!  Now what was he supposed to--

The deck door opened.  Lucretia looked out through the door, straight at him.

He stopped, turned.  "Lucretia," he said.  "Oh thank goodness!"

She squinted against the wind, turning her head back and forth, slowly scanning the deck.  Looking right through him.

"Lucretia," he said, "can you hear me?"  He brushed his hand through hers; she shuddered, as if he were just the wind.  She closed the door.

He took another deep phantom breath, and focused all his energy on his need to _make noise._   He knocked his knuckles against the door.  "Lucretia!" he yelled. 

Lucretia screamed.

Damn it.

 

#

 

The problem with Speak with Spirits was that it simultaneously yanked him into place and threw him for such a bad loop that he couldn't think properly.  He stared at his family all seated around the table, all watching him with various expressions of shock and fear and wariness.  That only caused his grip on himself to slip even further.  "I am…Captain Davenport…" he managed. 

"Okay, Captain Davenport," said Merle, his voice ringing strangely in Davenport's head.  "What can we do to ease your troubled soul?"

He looked at Merle, and at Barry.  He knew he had to get a message to them, but _what was it?_

"Barry," he said.  "Barry…the tunnel…Barry…"

And then he was blindsided by a wall of golden light, pushing him out of the room and away from his family.  He found himself back on the deck, pushed up against the railing.  What just happened? 

He hissed as more magic flared up around one corner of the ship.  It felt like an irritating vibration in the back of his skull.  He skirted around the edge of the deck, towards port side, trying to get a closer look.  There was some kind of ward there, surrounding Barry's room, meant to keep him out.

Why was his crew so damn competent at this?!

He focused, and blew a chill wind across the surface of Barry's window.  He tried writing a message.

From inside, he heard Barry's panicked yells and Magnus's surprised shouting. 

Okay, maybe subtle wasn't the best approach.  He returned to the fore deck and paced for a while longer, trying to steady himself again.  The crew was scared of him, _avoiding_ him.  His light nudges were getting him nowhere.  He needed to make them pay attention.  He needed to be something they couldn't ignore or run away from or easily Turn.  And he had an idea.

If there was one thing he'd gotten used to, as a gnome in authority, it was forcing people to pay attention to him.

The golden wall was slowly contracting as the Turn Undead spell began to fade.  He pushed against it, moving slowly closer and closer to the door into the Starblaster's interior.  He focused as he did, drawing the wind towards and through him, gathering up as much pure _force_ as he could.  And then he punched his way through, rushing down the hallway and straight to the helm.  The wind roared behind him. 

They could try to Turn a ghost, but they couldn't Turn the entire Starblaster.

 

#

 

"Cap, can you lower the volume just a tad?" asked Lup, pressing her hands against her ears.  "Some of us value our fleshy, vulnerable ears."

"SORRY…" he boomed.  There was a pause, and then his voice returned, still over the intercom but at a more reasonable volume.  "How's this?"

"You're golden."  Lup gave him a thumbs-up. 

"So are you, like, possessing the ship, now?" asked Taako.  "Because my bedroom is off-limits!  And the bathroom, obviously.  Because, ew."

"Taako, I need you to focus," said Davenport.  "And Barry, no, I'm not here to kill you.  I appreciate the offer, but no." 

Barry squinted through his glasses, looking at the wheel and then at one of the wall-mounted loudspeakers, unsure where his captain's "face" was supposed to be.  "Okay…" he said.  "But, uh, why are you like this, anyway?  All of us have died before, and none of us have stuck around as…as ghosts, I guess?"

There was a long pause.  "It was an oversight on the Celestial plane," said Davenport.  "Nothing you need to worry about.  The important thing is, I've had it confirmed that there is sentient life on this plane.  At minimum, there is a society of gnomes deeper underground than we previously ventured.  I'm not sure if anyone would have witnessed the Light falling, but we need to at least _try_ to find a lead.  We owe it to the lives on this world to do our best."

There was a pause as the captain's words soaked in.  Barry could feel the tension and uncertainty in the room.  Lup met his eyes, and quickly looked away, taking Taako's hand.

"I know it's risky," said Davenport, "but you need to return to the tunnels.  I may be able to get, um, a lead on a safer, more direct route.  But Barry, I'd like you to take the lead on the expedition."

Barry blinked, the sight of Davenport's broken body spiking through his brain.  "M-me?  But captain, I--I mean…"  He rubbed the back of his head.  "I messed up last time!  I _failed you_.  I can't lead the expedition!"

"Yes, you can," said Davenport.  "You're the best person on this crew when it comes to navigating dungeons and underground lairs.  You have a…a knack for it.  It's almost uncanny.  Why do you think I asked you to take point with me on the last mission?"

Barry thought back, past the tunnel worm attack and the crush of rock and the sight of blood.  Back to him and Davenport taking the lead, hiking deep into the tunnels ahead of the rest of the crew.  Now that he thought about it, Davenport _had_ been asking him a lot of questions:  where did Barry think they should go next?  Why this route, and not that one?  Does this path seem stable?

"Is that why you've been haunting me?" he asked, feeling stupid even as he asked the question.

There was a long pause.  He could practically picture Davenport pinching the bridge of his nose.  "Look, I'm sorry about that," he said.  "I knew I needed to get a message to you, but I've been…struggling to keep myself together.  I was a little muddled there.  And I'm sorry if I scared you."

"Ha!" said Merle.  "I was right!"

"Heh."  Barry rubbed the back of his neck.  "I guess so.  But you're okay now, Cap?"

There was another long pause.  "Honestly," he said, "being in the ship is the most comfortable I've been since I died."  The wheel spun easily, almost lazily, back and forth.  "Unfortunately, I'm pretty sure my soul is tethered to the ship regardless, so I can't go back to the tunnels myself.  But I trust you to keep going in my…semi-absence."

Barry swallowed.  "You…you really think I can do this?"

Davenport didn't have a face, but Barry thought it sounded like he was smiling.  "There's no one on this ship right now that I'd trust more with this task."

He felt a warm hand on his shoulder.  He turned to see Lup giving him a daring grin.  "You heard the captain, Barry!" she said.  "You got this!  And I'll make sure to blast any tunnel worms that so much as look at you cross-eyed!"

A warm blush crept across his nose.  "I, uh, I guess I can give it a shot…"

"Barry Bluejeans, Cave Master!" said Magnus, spreading his hands.

"Under the direction of Captain Davenblaster," added Taako.  "Ya know, I think we've got some real interesting branding opportunity here--"

"Taako, if you call me Davenblaster again, I will personally haunt the oven and burn every dish you try to make for the rest of the cycle."

Barry rubbed his neck.  "Yeah, and I'm not sure 'guy who lurks in caves' is something I wanna be, ah, universally known for.  Sounds kinda creepy, actually?"

"How about being known as the guy who's better and braver than he realizes?" said Lup, giving his shoulder a brief squeeze.  "Because that's definitely how I know you."

The warmth across his nose spread across his whole face and down the back of his neck.  "Y-yeah," he said.  "I think I can deal with that."


End file.
